Volume 69, Number 1 · Fall 2019


A boy shoulders his way
through the thighs of men
(musk of fenugreek)
and shucks off his book bag.
Because he is a boy,
he rides the sluggish bus
with purpose, knuckles tight
around the tall steel stanchion.
Out the window, a patch
of magenta screeches by,
tulips loud as the color
of fresh-dyed chicks.
                                    Far west,
they are wrapping children in Mylar
and putting them to sleep
where they used to house ammo.
Their mothers shout, te amo.

Armen Davoudian’s poems and translations from Persian appear or are forthcoming in AGNI, Narrative, the Sewanee Review, the Yale Review, and elsewhere. His work has been supported by scholarships from Bread Loaf and the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. He grew up in Isfahan, Iran and is currently pursuing a PhD in English at Stanford University.